Harry Potter And The Unknowable Room
by JewellyJJ
Summary: What if Harry had run away from Grimmauld Place when Dumbledore told him to "stay"? What if he did not to return to Hogwarts and go with Dumbledore? This follows his alternate journey thought his fifth year away from Hogwarts with the Hogwarts Head Master
1. Manusia

He paced the room, running his hands through his untidy tangle of black hair. He wasn't sure what to do. They only decent bit of advice he wanted right now was not the one he had heard.

_Stay where you are_

That's what Dumbledore had ordered him to do. But what did Dumbledore know? Had he lost his parents to the most evil dark wizard of all time? Nearly been killed by him and his servants almost every year for the past three? And was he now constantly being possessed so that images of Lord Voldemort's daily endeavours appeared in his head, along with a door which won't open and a great serpent attacking one of the nicest people he knew? No. The biggest danger he faced right now was losing his job.

Harry couldn't waste much more time. He hadn't even opened the door. He was the weapon that Sirius had let slip. He was giving Voldemort an inside view of Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place! Why did Dumbledore not see that? Or was Dumbledore merely in denial that Harry was possessed due to the fact that he didn't want to see his rival in Harry's eyes? He did not know. But what he did know was that despite what anyone said, he had to get out of this place. He muttered in Hedwig's ear for her to fly back to the Dursley's and that he would be there shortly. She blinked her enormous amber eyes, a sign which meant she understood, and took off at once, looking like a ghost in the pale sky. He grabbed her cage, and shoved it brusquely into his already packed trunk. Fred and George had shrunk it the day before to make more space on their return for the Holidays, as Hedwig was not with Harry when they left, so now it fitted comfortably into his trunk. The twins had set the charm so that it lasted up until tonight, when they believed Hedwig would return from hunting. She had returned hours early, but had sat nevertheless on the wardrobe, looking peaceful. He could only just see her silvery silhouette against the darkening snowy sky.

He was a danger to all of them. Ron and Ginny, who no doubt were discussing whether Harry was a dangerous madman upstairs, The Weasleys, Lupin, Sirius and for that matter, the entire wizarding population. He was the reason Voldemort was back. He helped revive him after all. The blood now running through his veins had helped his nemesis return to power. It sickened him to even think of it.

He could see Uncle Vernon's expression when he saw his nephew wandering up the garden path. They would no doubt be livid, but would have to put up with it. He had no other place to go, and he was sure, that the Dursley's were in no immediate danger. Voldemort would probably send someone to collect him directly for him to be killed. He would not bother to waste time killing such pointless muggles.

Climbing carefully down the stairs, he flung a coat on and then his invisibility cloak over himself and his trunk, making sure it covered all of his body. He did not want anyone, or anything, to see him escaping. He wondered vaguely how different and horrible life would be in Number 4 Privet drive, but then the horrible image of Ron lying dead on the floor appeared in his mind, and he cancelled the thought out entirely.

He managed to get the whole way down the stairs before he came across a problem. Hermione Granger stood there, wearing a woollen hat and a winter jacket, her mane of bushy brown hair covered in a thin layer of snow. Mrs Weasley letting her in quietly, clearly not wanting to wake Mrs Black. He had to press himself into a blank area of wall, which was extremely difficult as almost all the surrounding walls were covered in portraits of the vile Black family members. He held his breath tightly and quick as a flash, he darted out the door while Mrs Weasley was closing it and was thrown into the bitter cold snow. He was sure she had heard his breath as it had left him after he had got out the door, as she looked around for a few seconds then evidently decided that she had been imagining things, for she slammed the door resolutely shut.

He turned quickly on his heel; he did not want them to know he had gone. They should be more concerned for their own safety, not his. He was not related to anyone in that building and supposed he never would be. Like Professor Trelawney had said to him so many times in that cramped, hot room so many times before, he was going to die. Even if she was an old fraud, he had seen her make a prophecy almost two years ago and therefore did not question her ability as a seer. Although she may have many faults, she was not, as Hermione so often said, entirely powerless. He trudged miserably to the bottom of the steps and took one look back at the house. But it was gone before he could even blink. He turned back and then began walking but ceased instantly when a thought came to him.

_How the hell am I going to get back to Privet Drive?_

He hadn't even though about it. In his rush to escape, he hadn't even though about the most important thing. He didn't have any Muggle money, so he could not go on the subway. He couldn't use any magical means of transportation such as the Floo network or Apportion, for if he did, the Ministry could track him down with ease. He needed something that was not Ministry controlled, but was related to the wizarding world, and took the Galleons and Sickles he had, clinking every time he walked. Then it hit him. He groped for his wand and then held it out. With a loud BANG, the Night Bus appeared out of nowhere and skidded to a halt in front of him. The pimply youth he had met 2 years previously stood on the deck and clambered out to collect his trunk. Stan Shunpike had not changed in the slightest. He was still as tall, gangly and spotty as the last time he had seen him. The moment he saw Harry, his face lit up and he spoke cheerfully.

"Ern, it's 'Arry! Ello, where chou headin' to then?"

"Ur, Privet Drive, Surrey, please." He replied politely, and handed eleven sickles to Stan, who went back out to retrieve Harry's trunk, and got onto the unsteady bus, and sat on the seat nearest the front. He pulled the latest copy of the Daily Profit from one of the many newspaper racks, and began to read. Mr Weasley was plastered across the front page, a large bold title reading;

_**Snakedown on Ministry of Magic turf **_

Harry looked at the picture of a smiling Mr Weasley, standing in his office, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. He looked back to the article which continued to say;

_Late last night, Arthur Weasley, aged 41, was attacked by what can only be descried as either a very large snake or a very small basilisk. Mr Weasley was guarding the top secret room, which, of course, no one knows what is in it, when a large venomous snake entered the room unnoticed. It then proceeded to bite the unwary Mr Weasley, causing him grievous bodily harm. The _Daily Profit _can also reveal that the snake's venom has no antidote, which means that Mr Weasleys wound cannot stop bleeding, therefore he is having to take Blood Replenishing potion every hour. It was also confirmed in a surprise twist, that this event was not only to affect Mr Weasley, but a certain Harry Potter as well. Mr Potter, who's supposed lies about You Know Who's return have caused much of a rift between the Ministry and Hogwarts School, was one of the 5 children, along with the Weasley's that were given permission by the former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamont, Albus Dumbledore, to visit Mr Weasley in St Mungo's, therefore leaving their school almost 2 days before the holidays were even due to start. It yet again brings to the surface rumours that Dumbledore, who was voted unanimously out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards, is losing his grip as age begins to catch up with him. The Ministry refuse to answer questions on the incident. One harassed looking auror, Nymphadora Tonks, told a _Daily Profit _reporter after her shift as she hurried away, clearly wanting to escape the scene of such an attack;_

"_Don't bother me, I have work to do, and I'm going to speak to St Mungo's now. We're forbidden to talk about it. I can't reveal anything. All I'm going to say is that we have conformation that Arthur Weasley is still alive and should survive this attack. Please leave the premises or I will have to get some people from the office to deal with you."_

_This morning however, a delighted Healer from St Mungo's told us that Mr Weasley is in a good condition and should be out of hospital before the month ends. A flustered Cornelius Fudge agreed to tell a _Daily Profit _reporter the details of the attack. "We are still unsure as to how the snake got in to the Ministry in the first place; after all, all our entrances are guarded. I admit that it's not the best thing for our reputation at the moment, but we already have a lot on our plate with the whole Potter situation. Dumbledore still refuses to stop these ridiculous lies and we had to get someone in there to take a measure over the control of the slipping standards at Hogwarts. I repeat, there are more important things. I have spoken to Arthur myself and he assures me he will return to work within the month. I was concerned of course for his safety, but once he told me the details, I knew that he would appreciate us to continue out work so that his pay check can continue to come. That is all I have to say. Now please do not interview my employees as they have plenty of work to be getting on with in the present climate. Oh and be sure to speak with St Mungo's for some updates."_

_However, despite Fudges insistences that the snake was merely an escaped zoo snake, it has come to light the He Who Must Not Be Named used to have a large and venomous serpent, something Dumbledore revealed to the ministry last night._

_Can Potter be trusted to cope with this strange new turn of events? Or will this lead to more of his stories that You Know Who is back? All that is certain is that if these tales continue, Albus Dumbledore will need to consider his take on this in order to keep his job as Headmaster of such a fine establishment._

"They ain't liking chou to much at the minute, are they 'Arry?" said Stan pointing at the paper. "I dunno whata believe. I guess we'll just 'ave to see eh?"

"Yeah. Say, Stan, do you know if the Dementor's have returned to the prison yet?"

"Nope. They ain't movin' til they get what they want, ain't that right Ern?"

"They said unless the Ministry give them the amount people to suck the happiness out of that they want, they aren't going to come back. The only way we're gonna get rid of them is by killing them, and you need a skilled auror to do that. The spell's extremely complicated, see" he added, seeing the confused look on Harry's face.

Then it dawned on him. He could never be an auror now. This was the most important school year of his life, and he was giving it up for Voldemort. He mentally punched himself by picturing the image of a dead Ron, laying eagle spread while Voldemort stood above him, his high cruel laugh echoing in Harry's ears. He had no intention of letting his friends get murdered for him, and he pictured them now worriedly discussing his disappearance. They would, he hoped, be searching the house for him and attempting to contact Moody who might be able to find him. He felt sickened for wanting them to be worried, but after what happened yesterday, he would be delirious if they even acknowledged his disappearance. He then looked up to see Stan standing above him, a questioning look on his pimpled face.

"What chou doin' back 'ere anyway 'Arry? I though chou was at Hogwarts still."

"Oh, family business," He replied, his mind working quickly to come up with some excuse to tell Stan as why he was really venturing back into the Muggle world and shutting himself off from the one he treasured above all entirely. Admittedly, he would not miss some aspects of the wizarding world, such as Snape and his Occlumency lessons, but most of all, the fact that almost all of the wizarding population thought him a liar and an attention seeker. Oh and also someone who could quite easily fit in with the population of St Mungo's mental ward. "My Aunt and Uncle haven't seen me in quite a while. We're close you see, and they wanted to see me."

This was obviously a downright lie. The Dursley's would rather receive a letter to say that he had been killed or injured immensely than ever have his return to them. Vernon Dursley's purple face, vein throbbing in his temple, popped into Harry's mind and he had to stifle a laugh as a cough. Uncle Vernon would be absolutely livid that Harry had returned six months earlier than expected and had not been killed on the way there. He would undoubtedly question Harry on every aspect of his return and how long he planned to stay. He was sure that all three of the Dursley's would be furious to find that they would have to put up with him until his 17th birthday, when he could use magic legally. However, he guessed that Voldemort didn't want to wait another two years to kill him and he was certain that, as soon as they got wind of his disappearance, the Death Eaters would be searching for him.

He then began to think about life without magic and concealing that he was hidden at Privet Drive for the next few years. He knew that people would guess, but he was definite that Uncle Vernon would never let another wizard cross the threshold after he had told them the reason for his homecoming. If they were warned that a mass murdering wizard who was feared beyond all could arrive at any minute to kill him, they would want to make sure that no person like him ever entered their house again. Harry wasn't afraid of his uncle anymore and knew that they owed him for saving Dudley in the holidays. Aunt Petunia would obviously take this view, as anyone who saved her "Dinky Diddydums" was a hero in her eyes, even if it was her sisters freak son.

He closed his eyes briefly and his mind rested upon the image of the closed door he had dreamt about for so many nights. Why wouldn't it open? Why was he even seeing this door in the first place? It had no meaning to him. He didn't even know if such a door existed, but he had no one to ask. Stan and Ernie would think he was mad if he went around talking about a door that no one had ever heard of in the Department of Mysteries, and right now he needed all the support he could get.

The bus suddenly came to a halt and he flew off the chair and onto the floor, face to face with something that reminded him of the troll bogies that had been on his wand in his first year. He recalled painfully, how he, Ron and Hermione had managed to save the Philosophers stone from Quirell and Voldemort. He yet again wondered what life would be like for him without them, but knew they were better off without his company. All he could bring them was a certainty of death. After all he had put them through, they did not deserve that. He admitted that he was lucky to even have them as friends.

"'Ere we go 'Arry. I 'ope to see you again. Bye!" said Stan enthusiastically; opening the doors and placing his case outside onto the pavement and then extending his hand to pull Harry off the floor. Harry straightened up and was horrified to see Uncle Vernon, who couldn't see the magical bus, only a normal one, standing on the front lawn. The moment he saw Harry, he looked up and began to storm down the street towards them, shouting so loud, that half the neighbours had braved a peek out their windows despite the heavy layer of snow falling and the bitter cold wind blowing harshly down the street.

"What in gods name are you doing back here? I thought you wouldn't be back for another six months! I thought we'd got rid of you at last!" He bellowed, his face an even darker purple in the pale snow, which was tangled up in his bushy moustache and hair. He looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him and he had seen Uncle Vernon when he was beyond mad. He grabbed him by the collar and shook him. Ripping himself from his uncle's grasp, he spoke calmly, trying not to laugh as Uncle Vernon swelled.

"If you let me inside, I'll explain everything. I don't care what you try to do, but I'm back for good, so you better get used to me." He replied coolly, and marched straight past his uncle and set off down the road towards Number 4. He walked up the neat path, and wrenched open the door. The house inside had not changed in the slightest. It was still as neat as before and still as Harry free as it was in the holidays. Aunt Petunia, clearly under the impression it was her husband who had just entered the house, came charging out of the living room, snapping in her usual waspish manner.

"Vernon, do you remem- oh my god. What are you doing here?"

She looked as though she had been winded. He trudged into the lounge along with her and Uncle Vernon. Dudley looked even skinner than usual and almost passed out with fright when he saw Harry; he slid down the sofa, his eyes like galleons. Uncle Vernon was the first to ask questions, clearly wanting to know why Harry was still alive.

"So, they expelled you did they? Saw sense at last, I suppose?" he snarled nastily, vein throbbing still harder in his temple. He looked rather like an extremely angry pig. His eyes were fixated on Harry, and he was baring his teeth rather like a rabid dog. Harry had a fleeting image of an Uncle Vernon as Ripper, Aunt Marge's favourite dog. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

"Sit down," he gestured at the arm chairs and they both took a seat. They looked both as though they mistrusted him and despised him. He cared about neither. He wasn't bothered what they thought of him, but knew it was essential that they heard the truth from him. "I didn't get expelled, no. I'm here by choice. Lord Voldemort, as I told you before, is back. I'm now having visions all the time. I'm a weapon. He knows where you, but because of my mothers protection, he can't reach me. That is, until I'm 17, when I can do magic legally and defend myself as well as when the protection breaks. When I no longer call this place home. I know you don't care about me in the slightest, but until I reach 17, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to stay. I wouldn't do it if I had another option."

"You mean that you're going to explode or something? What do you mean "I'm a weapon"?" asked Uncle Vernon, his piggy little eyes, narrowed in confusion. He was not the worlds greatest thinker, Harry knew, but even a five year old could gather that by saying he was a weapon did not mean that he was about to self destruct before their very eyes.

"I mean," he replied through gritted teeth. "That he can see what I see. Well, that's what I've guessed based on the information I've heard. However, I'm positive that if I am, he could return much faster. So, I've come back here to stop him from seeing anything worthwhile."

"When you say worthwhile," began Aunt Petunia in tones of outrage, but he cut her off bluntly.

"I mean important in the wizarding world. Like about Hogwarts and stuff."

For the first time since Harry had discovered he was a wizard, the Dursley's did not even make any signs that two of the things that they loathed most had been mentioned under their roof. Admittedly, he expected it was not out of love, more likely shock of his return.

"If you don't want me to stay, I don't care. I have no choice and neither to do. I don't want my parents to die in vain."

"No, no, stay as long as you like." Aunt Petunia was almost whispering, while tears built up in her eyes. She hurried out of the room, leaving an aghast Uncle Vernon to stutter stupidly. Harry smiled around at him and then proceeded out of the door. He had felt it again. He was actually glad that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister. He grabbed his trunk and heaved it up the stairs, listening to Uncle Vernon's loud stutters, which were so noisy; they were carrying up the stairs. When, after several long minutes, he had managed to get the case up the stairs, he pulled it into his room to find Hedwig sitting on his bed, along with a brown owl, a brown envelope attached to it's right leg, which it was sticking out. He unattached it carefully and popped one of the owl treats he had accidentally left on his side table (Hedwig had tried to peck him to death when she discovered he had forgot to pack them) into its mouth. She clicked her beak in thanks then perched herself quite comfortably on the wardrobe looking out the window into the snowy night sky. He tore the envelope open, and was not surprised to see who it was from.

_Dear Harry,_

_Harry, where in Merlin's name are you? I came over to see you to find that you were no where to be found. This owl belongs to the post office, and it'll return there immediately, so I have no clue as to where you are. It seemed smart enough, so I merely wrote Harry Potter on the front. If this finds you, please do not put yourself in any more danger. We all love and care about you, and after what everyone heard on the extendable ears, we're all worried about you. No one thinks you're crazy, but we think it's an insane idea to run off without telling anyone where you're going to. Lord Voldemort's after you, for crying out loud. The Auror office is having a field day! Mrs Weasleys crying, the entire Order is looking for you! _

_I hope you're ok and that you think on what I'm saying,_

_Love_

_Hermione_

How dare she? Saying that they were all worried! They didn't care about him. All they cared about was that Mr Weasley was going to get better and to separate themselves from him entirely so that no attacks happened on any of the other Weasley family members. They were probably celebrating the fact that he was gone, that they were finally free of the psycho they had endured for the past five years. He was definite that she would be the last person he replied to. She did not understand, though she so often thought she did, his feelings and emotions at the present. What with the press insulting every few articles and the greatest wizard he knew being replaced by a mediocre wizard, with a love of pain and Ministry employee, who loathed him beyond all others.

He felt a sharp twinge in his scar. He was happy; very happy. Harry was now biting his bottom lip so hard, blood was trickling down his chin, and he could taste the coppery substance in his mouth. The scar stopped stinging, so he wiped his chin on the sleeve of his shirt. He had just tasted the blood that revived Voldemort. He wanted to scream, shout and cry all at once. He had no idea why this anger was building up inside of him. He wanted to make it stop. He needed to make people understand how he felt, what was really happening outside their front door, and why they should have never doubted Albus Dumbledore. He had to admit, that his feelings for Dumbledore at the minute were Luke warm, due to the fact that Dumbledore had been determinedly avoiding him, not even bothering to look him in the eyes after the fiasco at the ministry, probably expecting to see part of Lord Voldemort shining in his emerald eyes.

He had no intention of returning to the wizarding world. He would have to wait until his 17th birthday; however, he would be extremely far behind his class mates. He would have to learn the spells, hexes and incantations himself. The books that Sirius and Lupin had given him had extremely advanced magic in them, so he should be prepared. Some of the later books had spells he could not even teach the DA. The DA! He had left all of them in the lurch. His sudden departure meant they no longer had a leader, but he desperately hoped that Ron and Hermione would continue the sessions in order for his class mates to be protected. He knew that Hermione of all people would want them to carry on. She would probably be the one who would lead the lessons due to her bossy nature. Harry was sure she and Ron might get together in his absence, but he did not care. They were in his past now.

He was now engulfed in darkness; it shrouded him like a cloak. He was laid on the bed, the curtains wide open. He had not wanted to shut them, and had avoided standing up unless he was wearing his cloak. He knew that Mrs Figg was a squib and was in contact with Dumbledore. However, he had seen her at Grimmauld Place shortly before his departure, so was hopeful that she had not seen him return to Privet Drive. He knew that the Order would want to keep tabs on him, but if they did not know where to look, they could not spy on him. He had warned his Aunt and Uncle about the dangers of letting other wizards see him, so he could not leave the house unless under his invisibility cloak. He suspected that the Order would not think of looking at the Dursley's. All of the members knew he hated his surrogate family, and they would expect him to be hiding in London, or perhaps with Hagrid. He was not sure.

His eyes began to droop, and he suddenly realised that he was very tired. He pulled the bed covers over himself and rested his head on the pillow.

"Tomorrow's going to be a long day, Hedwig. You'll get the prophet for me in the morning won't you? Go to Diagon Alley. No one will think of you as any different there. Go with another owl. I'll colour change you. Just to make sure. Professor McGonagall got permission from the Minister to let us change our pet's colours. I suppose that we'll just have to see. It's gonna be a night which determines our future in this world, Hedwig. Just go and have a nice sleep. I'll leave the window open, but only go out if you're sure no ones looking. I don't want anyone getting wind of me being here."

He wanted to vent his anger out, but was so sleepy that he didn't really want to waste much energy. He was still sat there, torch alight, reading the books that Sirius had brought for him. He felt a flicker of guilt run through him. He was, he thought, the only reason Sirius was still going. He was the reason he had even returned to the wizarding world. And he had now left him alone again. He guessed that Sirius would now be moody and taciturn again, or searching for his missing godson. He had to get those thoughts out of his mind. He could not spend the remaining time at the Dursley's thinking about the people he had left behind. He would have to make the most of the situation and wait. He was not 17 for another year and a half, so he would to have patience.

He tried to focus on the page in front of him, but the words slurred around the page, random ones popping out such as spell and hit, bright and bold above the others, which were twisted messily around the page. He turned the torch off and threw it onto the floor. He shoved the book on the side and returned his head to his pillow. But falling asleep was no problem for Harry, as he was already out before his head had even reached the soft silk bedding. He knew that tonight above all nights was the most important one of his life. If he could survive this without Lord Voldemort and the Auror office finding him, he was indeed a very lucky man.


	2. Shame Is No Sin

The mahogany floors were clean. The windows were spotless, despite the storm raging on the other side. A greying, tired looking man sat at the old looking desk, running his hands through his already messy hair. He had the air of someone who was under deep strain. Another grubby little man in a portrait was itching his left ear lobe with one hand and examining a piece of parchment on the other. He stood entirely still for a second, and then simply walked out of the frame. The man on the desk let out a sigh. He did not look surprised for a second that the portrait had moved. In fact, he carried on shuffling the papers he had been looking at moments before, as though portraits normally moved. But, these men were not normal. The man got up and walked rather impatiently around the desk. As if he was waiting for the little man to return. He strummed his fingers on the desk, again looking impatient.

However, Cornelius Fudge was not an impatient man. He could wait for as long as someone wanted him to. But this was different. He had had enough of the whole Potter situation, and this latest blow was the biggest yet. The retched boy had decided it was time for another little stunt, no doubt to raise his press clipping collection. But running away in the current situation was not ideal. Voldemort was back. He knew it. But he could not tell the wizarding world that. He had already managed to convince most of them that he was not. He couldn't simply turn back around and say "Sorry, I got it wrong!" could he? He knew he was in denial, but was sure that Dumbledore wanted power. He was certain. Dumbledore was trying to uproot him as minister. But he was telling the truth to do so. He had no other choice but to lie! Still, that was not the matter now. He had to contact the Muggle Prime Minister. He ruffled his hair slightly and began to spin his lime green bowler hat.

"Um, Drewwis?"

The little man, who had only just returned moments before, turned to face him and looked as though he was certain of what the man before him, looking so frail, yet powerful, was about to say. Admittedly, he had asked the question he was about to more times than he would have cared to the past few years. However, this visit was, in his opinion, of vital importance.

"Yes, Minister?"

"Could you kindly go and alert the Muggle Prime Minister that I will be paying him a visit shortly."

"Of course."

Drewwis disappeared out of his portrait. He grabbed his bowler hat and straightened his tie. He liked to look smart before he visited other ministers. He had seen the Prime Minster more often than he would have liked over the past years, due to either Potters antics or the escapee Sirius Black, but that mattered not now. Drewwis strutted slowly and importantly back into his portrait.

"He says he can't wait. Sarcasm never seems to amaze me." He let out a chortle and then walked back into his other picture. Fudge felt in his pocket and pulled out some Floo Powder. He threw it into the old oak fireplace and the flames turned the same lime green colour of his hat. He quickly grabbed the latest copy of the evening profit and then proceeded into the glistening emerald flames. Almost a second later, he was stepping out into the Prime Ministers office.

It had not changed in the slightest since his last visit. This was only to announce that they were bringing a few dragons into the country, but he was sure the Prime minister thought him rather mad. He made his way slowly over to the old mahogany desk, and placed himself on one of old rickety wooden chairs, and gazed up into the Prime minister's rage contorted face. He tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it may have turned out merely worried, for the man opposite leapt up from his seat and began to pace back and forth throughout the office.

"What mass murderer do we have on the loose this time, or do you have another flying car around?" the Prime Minister snarled mockingly. In his anger, he looked slightly deranged, the steadily paling hair illuminating his round face. It gave him a look of tiredness and stress. Clearly he himself was not the only one under pressure.

Fudge felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He knew he was not the most organised, but he needed to tell the man, seeing as this was vitally important. Potter could be a danger to any man, wizard or not.

"Harry Potter has escaped our grasps. Although I cannot guarantee that he's dangerous, he is, on the other hand, seriously affected in the mind. Aggled, you know. His sanity might make him react unpredictably."

The Prime Minister paused for a second, looking slightly puzzled. He proceeded to say:

"Didn't you tell me he was a hero or something? Yes, I remember, you told me about You-Know-Who. Potter defeated him or something."

"That was a few years ago. He's started making up stories the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. Utter nonsense, but there you go. He suffered too much stress in the Triwizard, you see, and it's made him go rather mad. Watched a classmate of his die. Nasty experience, way too much for someone with his past trauma to go through. If I told Barty once, I told him a hundred times, but he insisted the boy remain in the competition. Should never have been allowed. But yes, he's gone quite gaga."

"Well then, why the hell didn't you cart him off to one of your hospitals or something? If he's a danger to society, then why didn't you do something?"

He winced horribly. The Prime ministers words had made an icy chill run over him and a bubble of guilt to pop in his stomach. He knew he should have done something, but with Potter under Dumbledore' protection he couldn't touch him. It was so irritating to know what was going on but not to be able to do anything. He would have deeply loved to have asked the Prime minister about the escaped bank robber that was on the news yesterday, but felt that he ought to be slightly more mature about the situation. After all, he was, he felt, the more responsible of the two of them.

"Dumbledore's protection makes him unable to be arrested or taken away. He is, you could say, untouchable."

"Well, hang on a second. Dumbledore? Isn't he the head master? Surely he should know that Potter's mad? Couldn't you-"

"Dumbledore is blinded by Potter's calumniation. The boy has him wound around his little finger. And no, I couldn't. Dumbledore is much more powerful wizard then I ever will be. He did things with his wand that-"

The Prime Minister cut across him again, waving an impatient hand in his face and then slamming a newspaper clipping in front of him. He examined it for a few seconds. What did Sirius Black have to do with any of this? He may have been after Potter, and probably still was, but it had nothing to do the matter at hand.

"So," he almost growled, strumming his fingers on the desk. "You've already let one mass murderer get out, now you've let out a psychopath, who could be a danger to anyone. Congratulations. You must be so proud. A real achievement for your standards, I'm sure. Of course, while you sit around, waiting on this _Dumbledore _to do your job for you, I pick up the pieces over here. Your fan club must be large, with your experience."

He felt sick. He thought his stomach was going to explode. Although it had not been a nice speech, it spoke to much truth for him to handle. The fact about Dumbledore doing his job for him had hit the nail on the head. All these years, every single second, he had let Dumbledore have control. He had taken the back seat and nothing bad had ever happened. But whenever he tried to do something independently, it always turned into a walking disaster. But Dumbledore had always been there to pick up the remains and put the fragments of the puzzle back together. Maybe that was why he partly admired him. He was also partly jealous, but he knew, with all the help he received, he deserved none of it. Dumbledore deserved his job. Not his criticism. He had made a dreadful mistake.

He rose up from his chair and felt a cold sweat trickle down his back, causing his shirt to stick to him. Directing his gaze to the Prime Ministers face, he was shocked to see the man before him and covered his face with his hands and was rubbing almost unknowingly.

"I have to go and attend to other matters. I shan't bother you again."

"Well, I just hope" mumbled the Prime Minister wearily through his hands. "I just hope you know what you're doing. Make the right decision." He added, looking directly at him. Fudge could see the pain in his eyes. The man had, like himself, had enough. And today was the day to finish everything he started. To break the ice, to kill the mocking bird. And the only way to do that was to talk to the man who had plagued his previous conversation. Albus Dumbledore would probably not be sweet talked as easily as many other wizards. He was cunning, sharp and, above all, a genius. He was easily the best wizard in the world.

Fudge got up and strode, rather shakily, over to the wooden fireplace. He automatically threw some Floo Powder into the grate, and without saying goodbye, tumbled into the heart. It felt like a century, along with a tonne of soot up his nose and in his mouth, before he finally arrived at his destination. Even with his face pressed up against the cold claret coloured wood, he could tell that this was, however clean it may be, his office.

"Ah, good evening, Cornelius." Came a mildly amused voice from somewhere to his left. He turned over and looked up to see the illuminated face of a smiling Albus Dumbledore. His grey hair was slightly windswept and his beard askew. He had clearly only appeared minutes before Fudge himself had arrived. He looked as though he was rather enjoying himself, which, to him, seemed rather odd, seeing as the press were tearing him apart every couple of days. But whatever grudges they may have held against each other seemed to make no difference to Dumbledore, who merely held out his hand and pulled him off the floor.

He stared rather blankly into Dumbledore's smirking face. He had no clue what to make of it. What if it was an attack? Was he about to be ambushed? Who would look after the Ministry if he was killed? All these questions ran through his head in a matter of seconds, the words tumbling through, all their letters scattering as another invaded. If it was an attack, he was prepared. He had his wand at the ready. He had expected this. What was he thinking? He should never have come here. Dumbledore obviously misread his expression, because his smirk, if possible, widened further. He began to speak:

"Bitten off more than you can chew? Well, forgive me Cornelius, but I did expect it of you. Not that you are not a great Minister, but you never really learnt to stand on two feet. You did not ever need my advice, yet you still sought it. I frequently reminded you that you were allocated Minister because of your abilities, not mine. Yet you continued to ask for my assistance in matter of which, forgive me again, a child from my school could sort out. You knew this, but again, you never really understood what I tried to tell you. _Going into battle without a sword is a mistake any man can make, yet only those who treasure their lives don't. _Maybe you never understood its meaning, so I will now decipher what I tried to get you to understand every day you owled me. Going into life without skills is an easy mistake, yet only those who treasure their positions of work don't. You went in with an amazing amount of skills. You were honoured by friends and colleges alike. However, you lacked confidence. Maybe now you see it? I never wanted your job. I wanted you to stand of your feet and face the war that had been, and still is, coming towards us. I implore you to make the decision I have wanted you to make for many months. You must act now. We cannot afford to waste time."

"Is it as bad as before Dumbledore? I could not bear to go through another war. It would end us. And do you have any idea where Potter is?"

"You will remove Dolores Umbridge from my school. And you will stop your Auror's searching for Rubeus Hagrid so that he can continue with his work." Continued Dumbledore calmly, as though he hadn't heard a word that had just come from his mouth. "But yes, it is as bad, or in fact worse than before. I think if you continue with this madness, he will take over much faster. Not knowing the danger that lies ahead is much riskier than facing it. It is like Apaporis Coherdiean once said;

_As little boys, we dream of fighting at war until we face the cruel reality of it._ He was, of course, the greatest Minister that the wizarding world ever had. He was an extremely powerful wizard. Better than I can ever dream of being. Oh yes," Dumbledore said, while he shook his head. No wizard was greater than Dumbledore. He was, as many said, far too modest. Apaporis Coherdiean may have been a great minister and a great wizard, but was he ultimately better than the man standing before him? No. He could never have matched the power Dumbledore had. Dumbledore, however seemed to have a different take on the subject, and was now shaking his head slowly.

"He was a much better wizard than I am. He lead us in many a war, and always helped us win. He knew more than many would want to. He learnt about every in and out of our world on his travels. But I think that meeting the Yeti down in Greenland really made him see the reality of our world. We could banish the Yeti as much as we wanted. We were selfish beyond belief; making sure anything that could endanger us could not approach us. Yet all it wanted was company and love. But Apaporis was very different from most of us. He brought the creature back to England. He nurtured it until it regained health. He brought us the greatest discovery of our time. He brought us love. He taught us that we are no different from any creature, man or animal. Plant or Tree. We are all linked in a circle. I, like the next man, have made plenty of mistakes, but love always overcomes those. This time it is necessary. We need love to overcome out greatest fear, which as many know, will always be war. We fear that we will be taken over by things of which we have no control. We can win this war if we join forces. Please, Cornelius. See the truth of reality. We are only human. And we can only win if we are together."

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment over the top of his half moon spectacles. He seemed to x-ray him as he gazed up and down. He had to make the right decision. He had no other choice. There was no other way. Tomorrow, he would have to announce to the entire wizarding world that Lord Voldemort was back. It may be the end of his career, but he had to do it. He was a coward for admitting it, and he knew that everyone would perceive it that way, but he was scared. Petrified. He had no clue what to say. All he was certain of was that saying sorry could never make up for the lies he had spread.

"Alright, I'll do it. They'll be furious with me. They won't want to know me after this. I know I've been a fool, but what If they end my term in office? Anyone could get into the Ministry. We don't need that right now. That would make me look an even bigger fool. What shall I tell them?"

"Oh, anything," Replied Dumbledore lightly, twiddling his thumbs together and smiling down on him. He still seemed unfazed by the fact that their entire previous discussion was about the war going on around them. "Anything that conveys the suffering of myself and Harry Potter will do nicely. Just don't overdo it. Give away as little as possible. I do not know all the details as of yet. But by this time next week, I will be able to give them to you. Now, it is almost 11 o'clock. You should get going. Please do not forget what we have discussed. I will meet up with you tomorrow at around 9 thirty. We must discuss your safety arrangements as well as the Prime Ministers. Good night, Cornelius."

He took the remaining Floo powder out of his pocket deposited into the grate. He still had his doubts about Dumbledore's plan, but had no choice otherwise. He was in for a hard slug tomorrow. But that could be dealt with later. Standing swiftly into the fireplace, he took one last look at Dumbledore's ever smiling face, and knew that for once in his entire term in office, he had made the right decision.


	3. Chapter 3

**By the way guys, just to let you know, I had this on HPFF, but the delays and picky nature of the staff left me frustrated and I decided it would be easier to post on here. This isn't someone stealing the story it is all genuinely mine! Love you guys!**

He felt elation run through him. His hands were shaking so badly, that he could barely read the article he was holding in front of him, even though it had arrived yesterday. He hadn't bothered to read it, but now he had, his heart seemed to be swelling with a feeling of pure joy. No other word could describe the feeling he had right now.

Cornelius Fudge had finally seen what he, Harry, had been trying to tell him all along. Maybe it was Dumbledore's sheer refusal to give up on him, or maybe it was the fact he had never changed his story. Whatever it was, it made Harry Potter feel the feeling of happiness run through him again, like the blood flowing through his veins. It was something that made sure Voldemort was less strong. But he, of course, could not return to the wizarding world now. It was to...soon. Voldemort would know by now that he had gone missing. And he did not want to come face to face with the darkest and most dangerous wizard of all time without being able to defend himself.

He looked out of the window to see a tawny owl gliding through the pale cobalt sky. It was, as he had known all along, his own owl, Hedwig. She was merely disguised, so it would look like she was a common tawny owl. He had taught her to fly round the back of the house, as to not arouse the suspicions of his batty, cat loving neighbour, Mrs Figg. He had no intention of being discovered right now. Unless it was Albus Dumbledore who requested him, he doubted he would ever want to return to the wizarding world again. It made his head hurt to even think about it, but if he was the weapon Voldemort was using, then he didn't have much choice. Lives would be at stake, and he would not be responsible for the death of any wizard, elder or child.

Hedwig soared in through the back window, and perched herself comfortably on the edge of his bed, the sunlight which flickered through the bisque curtains reflected beautifully in her mahogany eyes. She nibbled his fingers tenderly, and then proceeded to stick out her right leg, which had a crisp letter attached to it. On the front were the words, _To Harry Potter, _in thin slanting writing. He knew that writing. He scrambled to open it; he looked slightly possessed. Once opened, he stroked Hedwig's head softly, and spoke to her.

"He wants to collect me at 10 tonight. You up for an adventure Hedwig?"

She blinked several times, and then nibbled his finger again. Harry knew exactly what she meant. Whatever he would do, she would follow. She was the most loyal creature Harry had ever met. His only current connection with the magical world. And tonight, she would accompany him on the journey of a lifetime. Albus Dumbledore wanted him to go on a journey with him. He was, as of yet, unsure whether to reply or not. What would the mission, so to speak, entail? Would he be taught advanced defensive magic? Or perhaps find out the reverse? The letter was particularly vague. Harry guessed that if it had fallen into the wrong hands, it would have been extremely dangerous to give away too much information. But as of now, all he could do was wait.

Minutes passed like hours, but before he knew it, there was a sharp rap on the door. Harry had fallen asleep in his wait, head at an extremely odd angle, snoring loudly. Once he heard the knock, however, he was wide awake at once. Leaping down the stairs, he answered the front door to find a smiling Albus Dumbledore standing there. He smiled back, despite being a little confused. He had run away without giving any warning. Surely, he should be in the bad books of someone who had been trying to protect him all year. It was an odd situation. However, he could not turn back now. He had his bag and Hedwig in her cage under his arms.

"Good evening, Sir. Long journey?"

"Not at all, my dear boy. I presume, by what you are carrying, that you're prepared to leave?"

"Yeah. Sir, will I be coming back here?"

He looked back at the house he had loathed for so long. It had been, for the past few weeks, a place of comfort and strength for him. He had grown close to it.

"I dare say you will, but probably not until next year, so it would be best to say goodbye now."

"Oh, I already have. I did that earlier. The Dursley's are out, see."

There was almost too much knowing in Dumbledore's smile for his liking, so he continued to question the headmaster.

"Sir, where are we going exactly?"

"Well, to be precise, a trip down memory lane. But first, when we have departed, I have to tell you a few things."

"A few things?"

"Things that will become more clear when you and I have taken the trip down memory lane. You, I see have become a greater wizard than I could have ever imagined. You seem to have progressed from the boy I once knew, into a fine man, Harry. You must have been expecting someone to realise where you where, I presume?"

"Well, yeah. Who did?"

"Alas, Mrs Figg, bless her, saw an owl fly over the top of the house. She became suspicious and owled me immediately. I, forgive me, being the wizard I am, already had a hunch as to where you were, but needed proof before I entered the street and  
>your Aunt and Uncles house without permission."<p>

"I thought she might have done. Also, Sir, how did you persuade Fudge? It was in the paper, yesterday."

"Ah, Cornelius. He was not persuaded." Dumbledore chuckled at the confused look on Harry's face. He continued. "Cornelius saw the error of his ways, and came to me, asking for my forgiveness. Needless to say, I gave it to him. We need all the support we can get at a time like this."

"Sorry for asking lots of questions, it's just that, I'm-"

He broke off. He had no idea what he felt right now. It was mixture of confusion, hate and a burning desire to kill Voldemort. He had no idea how he would kill someone who couldn't, seemingly, be killed, but he could not give up.

"I quite understand. If I were in your situation, I'm sure my feelings would be just as mixed up. But do not feel afraid to ask questions, Harry. For a great man can answer a question, but only a greater one could ask one."

"Ok, um, Sir, whose memories will we be seeing?"

"A few peoples, my own included. However, that is not the time. What you and I need now is rest. I suggest a stay in the Leaky Cauldron would be a wise choice tonight.  
>Yes, that would be best. Please, take my arm."<p>

Harry was slightly unsure about this request, but all the same, he didn't have much other choice right now. After all, he did trust the headmaster. So, he reached out and grasped Dumbledore's arm, his hands shaking again. He hadn't asked any questions about Dumbledore's identity. He didn't even know if this was the real Dumbledore. But he had taken the man's arm now. But he wasn't prepared for what happened next. It felt like he was compressed in a tube, struggling for air. He was surely going to die, however, he suddenly landed on cold hard ground, still gripping Dumbledore's arm. He took in a deep breath. He opened his eyes slowly and saw that they were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron. Now, he was one step closer to home.


End file.
